Static
by katie3
Summary: Johnny and Devi's thoughts on one another. And now it is romantic; the last chapter is, anyway. If you don't like romance, just don't read that one. Simple enough, yes? Put to music from 'The Nightmare Before Christmas'.
1. Cold From Killing

Johnny and crew (c) Jhonen and Slave Labor Graphics, 'Jack's Lament' (c) Touchstone.  
This fic has a soundtrack. You've been warned. The song is from the movie, 'The Nightmare  
Before Christmas', so some of you may like that. I know I love that movie. So enjoy.   
-katie  
  
Johnny sat at the television, staring at it. He was not watching. He had killed a particulary  
annoying and ignorant moviegoer that night, after having heard enough about how awful the film  
had been from this man that had overlooked the deeper insights of what the piece had to offer.  
The usual capture, kill, hide had happened so quickly, Johnny knew that he really was too good  
at it. It was all one fluid motion for him.  
  
There are few who deny  
At what I do I am the best,  
For my talents are renowned   
Far and wide.  
  
The television noise cut his thoughts, and he heard the words, "-slain by criminally insane man  
after a night at the movi-"   
'Criminally insane, huh?' thought Johnny to himself. 'So that's what the world makes of me.'  
  
When it comes to surprises  
In the moonlit night,  
I excel without ever  
Even trying.   
  
'Well, maybe I am, for all that they say,' he continued in his own mind. He continued staring at  
the flickering screen of the television, where the news reporter was now talking about an  
earthquake in Japan earlier that day.   
"And so what if I am?" His thoughts moved to speech. "Is there anything wrong with that?" He  
was encouraging himself, and he liked it. He liked having the power, for the moment, to control  
his own emotions.  
  
With the slightest little effort  
Of my ghostlike charms,  
I have seen grown men  
Give out a shriek.  
With a wave of my hand  
And a well-placed moan,  
I have swept the very bravest  
Off their feet.  
  
He continued to talk of how he couldn't be caught, building himself up, when suddenly he  
stopped. He felt a cold chill come from deep within himself. A cruel voice whispered to him,  
*Liar. You hate this life, and you know it.* Johnny squirmed at that voice. It was neither of the  
Doughboys, it was not Nailbunny, it was not even Reverend Meat. It was someone new.  
*Not someone new, Johnny. Someone that's simply choosing to emerge into thought.* And  
Johnny knew that it was his own mind finally speaking for itself. It was not hindered by any of  
the other voices, like his previous thoughts were.  
*As I was thinking,* hissed the voice, *you know very well that your life sucks. Why are you  
lying to yourself? Don't you hate it when others do it?*  
An audible growl rang through Johnny's throat. It was his quiet and unwilling agreement.  
*That's what I thought.*  
  
  
Yet year after year,  
It's the same old thing.  
And I grow so weary of the  
Sound of screams.   
And I, Jack,   
The Pumpkin King,  
Have grown so tired of the   
Same old thing.  
  
A hot tear splashed down Johnny's cheek. He quickly wiped at it with the back of his hand. He  
shuddered when his hand touched his face. It was so cold.   
*It's cold from killing.*  
"Shut up. That doesn't even make sense," he replied. Even he heard the crack in his own voice.  
  
Oh, somewhere deep  
Inside of these bones  
An emptiness  
Began to grow.  
Oh, somewhere out there  
Far from my home,  
A longing that   
I've never known.   
  
'Do not cry, do not cry. . .' thought Johnny to himself. His own thoughts. Not the Cold Voice's.  
The Voice made no reply, and Johnny took this as a cue to continue. He slipped into speech  
again. "You can't trick me. I won't be your slave, you. . . you. . ."   
But he never found a word. He simply stopped talking and grinned. His eyes were still fixed  
unblinkingly at the screen. It was now static, but if Johnny noticed, he gave no sign.   
  
I'm the master of light,  
And a demon of fright,  
And I'll scare you right  
Out of your pants.  
  
The grin broadened, calling up some of the better memories.   
  
To a guy in Kentucky,  
I'm Mister Unlucky,  
And I'm known throughout  
England and France.   
  
*But don't you see-*  
"Shut up. I'm busy," muttered Johnny. He continued to stare straight ahead, and called up his  
more brilliant kills. Each one bubbled up in turn. Each victim that dared to bother Johnny C.  
flashed through the man's mind.   
"Damn, I'm amazing," said Johnny happily to himself. The Cold Voice made no reply. "Got  
nothing to say now, do you?" laughed Johnny. He chuckled and tried to imagine what would  
happen if anyone else tried to kill someone. They were caught. They were locked up. Forever.  
Johnny cackled out loud because he knew - just *knew* - that he would never be caught.  
  
And since I am dead,  
I can take off my head,  
To recite Shakespearean   
Quotations.  
No animal, nor man  
Can scream like I can,  
With the fury of my  
Recitations.  
  
Johnny stopped thinking to himself for a moment, and this gave the Cold Voice all the time it  
needed to slip in.   
*But you know that you're putting yourself on, right?*  
Johnny's eyes had closed lazily, remembering the good memories. Now they snapped open  
again. Dammit.  
*One of those Doughboys, they're doing that thinking for you right now, you know,* continued  
the Cold Voice. *The one that wants to see you kill as many people as you can.*  
"You. . . you're wrong. . . they can't. . ."  
*Wanna bet? Wow, Johnny, I'd have thought you'd know by now. Don't you remember what  
they did to you?*  
A picture formed in Johnny's mind. A girl. . . with green hair. . . because it had been green then.  
Now it was purple. Soft purple. . . but then it was green, and that was the image in his mind.   
"I didn't kill her. . . she's still alive. . ."  
*But you were close. 'The one that got away,' took on a whole new meaning for you that night,  
Johnny.*  
Johnny kept his eyes wide open, always staring at the static on the screen. Where had the picture  
gone? Where had the. . .   
He realized that the image of Devi in his mind was gone.   
*Because they took her away.*  
  
But who here would   
Ever understand  
That the Pumpkin King,  
With the skeleton grin,  
Would tire of his crown?  
If they only understood,  
That he'd give it all up  
If he only could.  
  
Another tear streaked its way through the caked blood on Johnny's face. His mind tore through  
several thoughts over and over again, mostly of what he had taken away from him (*how* could  
it have been taken away from him?), and of what he was missing right now. He was missing  
Devi. But it was something else, too. A word he'd heard a long time ago, in a world as real to  
him as a fairy tale.   
  
Oh, there's an empty  
Place in my bones  
That calls out for  
Something unknown.  
  
The television flickered back to life, and the news came back up. It was almost over. The  
reporter was now saying how the criminal behind the sick crime would be apprehended, and that  
all should be on the lookout for this reported maniac.  
  
The fame and praise that  
Come year after year,  
Do nothing for  
These empty tears.  
  
The television went back to its own world of static, and Johnny kept staring. 


	2. Something In The Wind

Oooooh! I am saying, "ooh!" Another fansongthing to music from   
'The Nightmare Before Christmas'! Wow golly gee whiz I can't contain my  
excitement. Squee. Anyhoo, this one is from Devi's POV, because that's   
the only other song that fits. I'n't that neat? So have fun.   
  
Devi walked home from the club. She had not been out for some   
time, due to that raging maniac that had violently shoved her into an   
unwilling state of paranoia months ago. Call it what you will, and urge,   
a premonition, an annoying pain-in-the-ass nudge from Tenna, but Devi   
found her self in need of going out. Now that the night had wound down,   
she was regretting the decision, feeling more depressed than when she   
had left.  
  
I sense there's something   
In the wind,  
That feels like tragedy's  
At hand.   
  
And he had gone and fucked it up, hadn't he? He had to,   
"Immortalize the Moment," as he had so eerily put it. The term had to   
be capitalized. If Devi were to write those words in a book, the 'I'   
and the 'M' would most certainly be capital. Because the meaning they   
held for her was something lost, slipped out of her grasp, but   
something that she desperately wanted to recover, but was not good for   
her. As she strolled home, the thought of a child that has licked his   
first ice cream cone too hard, sending the scoop toppling to its   
untimely death on the ground. Is that what she had done? No, Johnny had   
meant to kill her. The ice cream didn't explode if you left it on the   
cone too long. Johnny was prepared to take her life.  
  
And though I'd like to  
Stand by him,  
Can't shake this feeling  
That I have.  
  
But what if she tried again? What then? Mistakes are remembered,   
and the child that had dropped his ice cream sniffles and smiles at his   
mother as she brings him a new one, and the boy is sure to be more   
careful. The next one will not fall. It is too precious to him, the   
memory of the lost one too painful. Devi smiled at the image of a boy   
carefully eating his second chance. Then the thought turned sour as a   
gust of wind picked up and chilled Devi. What does the boy get then,   
for eating the damned thing? He gets sick. Unhealthy, and will   
ultimately die sooner for this second chance. But. . . maybe it was   
worth it. . . the satisfaction of knowing that the second chance was   
not wasted? Was that it? Perhaps. Doubts and Shadows flicked slyly   
around her mind, trying to convince her or discourage her. . . and she   
felt the ice cream slipping off the cone now. . .  
  
The worst is just around  
The bend,  
And does he notice my   
Feelings for him?  
And will he see  
How much he means to me?  
I think it's not to be.  
  
Johnny had tried to kill her. He thought it was for the best,   
somehow, in his own twisted way. He thought that it would be doing her   
(himself?) a favor. It was his way of taking care of his life. Hey,   
mom, I don't think I'll have any ice cream after all. It might fall off   
the cone, and then I would be sad. So let's just not have the damned   
stuff at all. . . Is that what he was thinking? Kill her before she   
falls to her death on the dirty concrete?  
  
What will become of  
My dear friend?  
Where will his actions  
Lead us then?  
  
She passed a crowded little restaurant, with people lined up   
outside, waiting for their big chance to get in. To be seen with the   
'pretty people', in hopes that they too may sift in and be happy. Happy.   
It was such a relative term, wasn't it? But they thought that they   
would be happy, narrowly escaping the delusions that plagued people like   
(Johnny?)  
herself.  
  
Although I'd like to join the crowd  
In their enthusiastic cloud,  
Try as I may it doesn't last,  
And will we ever  
End up together?  
  
She neared home, and drew her coat tighter around her, adjusted  
her backpack (half full of cans of mace, goddammit). Mommy. . . please,  
Mommy. . . I promise I'll be more careful with the next one. . . I   
swear it. . .   
No, I don't think I'll have any ice cream today. I might drop   
it. It'd just be better not to have it at all rather than drop it and   
be sad. So I'll just. . . Immortalize the Moment.  
  
No, I think not.  
It's never to become,  
For I am not  
The one. 


	3. And last. . .

The last bit (er- for now, anyway) of my JtHM/NMBC fic. I kinda like the ending of this  
(you'll have to have read the comics to understand it at all), and I rarely like anything I write.   
-katie  
  
He walked up slowly behind her, silent as Death. A knife was stuck in his boot, ready at a  
moment's notice. His plan was formed so clearly in his mind. . . She wouldn't know what hit  
her. No idea. . . .  
He cleared his throat. "A-hem."   
She whirled around quickly. A look of fear and   
(pain?)  
anger plastered on her face. "No!" she gasped quietly, the ominous dark swallowing up her plea.  
He smiled, grinned. She hadn't the slightest clue. Her eyes bulged. His hands were behind his  
back, holding something.   
(how dare he?)  
How dare he do what?   
(kill you, you foolish girl)  
"Wouldn't!" she gasped out loud to herself.  
He grinned. "I wouldn't? You thought I was too weak to try again? Is that what you  
thought?" He began to pull  
(the knife)  
whatever it was that he had out from behind his back. She moaned worriedly. Of course  
he would do it! He was crazy! Of course he would do it where they  
(fell in love?)  
went on their first and only date.   
He pulled his hand out from behind his thin back. Oh, God, here it comes, he's going to--  
  
Johnny bowed his head, and held the single, beautiful (if not a tiny bit wilted) rose. The  
end was neatly   
(sliced? knife, slice, knife)  
snipped. His head remained bowed and he motionless. So. This is what he had meant  
when he said he would try again.  
  
My dearest friend,   
If you don't mind,   
I'd like to join you   
By your side. . .  
  
"I don't know weather to mace you, or do something sickeningly sweet, like hug you,"  
muttered Devi to Johnny as they stared down on the city, much as they had years ago.   
"Well, I'm not sure if I'd particulary enjoy one or the other. I came simply to sit and talk.  
And look." He gestured to the city, lit up brightly.   
"And the rose was something you just found on the side of the road," she commented  
flatly.  
"Actually, in the garden a few doors down. I figured that the residents of the house  
wouldn't miss it. It was nearly dead."  
"Uh-huh." She was disbelieving.   
No matter, he thought to himself. He was not one to be believed, after what had  
happened between them. He turned his eyes back to the cityscape and the lovely sky. Maybe he  
liked it better when she didn't believe him. It was the way it had always been, and change is not  
always a good thing. Not always.   
(right?)   
  
Where we can gaze   
Into the stars,   
And sit together,   
Now and forever.   
  
Devi shifted her eyes toward Johnny, sitting contemplatively on the hood of her car, old thing  
that it was. He was staring at the sky, faint traces of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.  
His eyes flicked to her every now and then and quickly back to the lights. The grin tugged  
harder, though he fought it.   
(don'tsmiledon'tsmiledon'tsmile DON'T FEEL ANYTHING)  
He smiled. It was not a manic grin, either. It was a genuine smile of being happy and  
alone, and yet not solitary. Devi also realized that she was smiling. It couldn't be helped. The  
look that lit up Johnny's face seemed to make him seem years younger, a teenage kid again.  
Except without the acne. Heh. A contented sigh escaped her lungs.   
  
He turned his head and looked at her directly this time. "Devi?"  
"Yes, Johnny?"  
". . . . I'm happy."  
  
For it is plain   
As anyone can see:   
We're simply   
Meant to be. 


End file.
